


Fine.

by Scrunchles



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gentle Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 00:45:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14682951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrunchles/pseuds/Scrunchles
Summary: The taste of acrid smoke lingers in the back of Roadhog’s throat even though they’re kilometers away from the bank.  Junkrat clings to his back tightly, his mad cackles still slipping out every once in a while. The jagged metal from his broken prosthetic leg jabs into Roadhog’s thigh with every bump and jolt of the motorcycle speeding them away from the scene.  The flashing lights and sirens and helicopters had been long lost half an hour ago, but Roadhog keeps driving.  His heart is racing madly.  He can feel the tack of drying blood from a few minor wounds on his side and left shoulder.  He tells himself that if that’s all he got from the wipeout, Junkrat’s probably fine.  He’s still laughing.  He’s still clinging tightly.  He’s fine.He’s fine.





	Fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoy :)

The taste of acrid smoke lingers in the back of Roadhog’s throat even though they’re kilometers away from the bank.  Junkrat clings to his back tightly, his mad cackles still slipping out every once in a while. The jagged metal from his broken prosthetic leg jabs into Roadhog’s thigh with every bump and jolt of the motorcycle speeding them away from the scene.  The flashing lights and sirens and helicopters had been long lost half an hour ago, but Roadhog keeps driving.  His heart is racing madly.  He can feel the tack of drying blood from a few minor wounds on his side and left shoulder.  He tells himself that if that’s all he got from the wipeout, Junkrat’s probably fine.  He’s still laughing.  He’s still clinging tightly.  He’s fine.

He’s fine.

When they finally stop, tucked away in the back corner of a yard full of shipping containers, Junkrat is the first to hop off of the bike.  He wobbles on his left leg, but stays up long enough for Roadhog to get off, then he climbs him.

Roadhog winces at the rasp of metal against the bloody scrapes on his left arm and shoulder.  Junkrat’s metal fingers dig into him as his flesh ones fumble with the straps of Roadhog’s mask blindly.  His lips and teeth worry at Roadhog’s skin, eagerly attacking his neck and thick trapezius muscle as his hand pulls at the mask’s straps.  

He gets one loose before he pries at the leather, desperately wrenching to get the mask free.  Roadhog shoves his hand away and easily unbuckles the mask.  Once it’s gone, Junkrat kisses him hard and desperate.  His tongue shoves past Roadhog’s chapped and dry lips, needy and tasting faintly of old boba tea and smoke.  

Roadhog allows it briefly until Junkrat drops off of him, trailing spit and laughter to begin yanking at Roadhog’s pants.  He pushes Junkrat away and up against the side of a shipping container.  Junkrat grins and pets at Roadhog’s thick wrist.  Words spill from his lips, promises and compliments, but Roadhog doesn’t take any of it in. His hand covers Junkrat’s entire chest, and he can feel the smaller man’s heart racing against his palm.  He follows Junkrat’s body down to the broken prosthetic leg and he reaches for it, twisting it off of Junkrat’s stump and peeling the sleeve off after it to show whole flesh.

He’s fine.  Junkrat’s fine.  Roadhog allows his eyes to meet Junkrat’s and he stares into his manic, dilated pupils briefly before leaning in for another kiss, this one tender and precious.  Junkrat tries to shove his tongue past Roadhog’s lips, but he doesn’t allow it.  Soft, short kisses that are as quick and easy as breathing don’t leave room for the frenzied tangle that Junkrat keeps pushing for.  

One of Junkrat’s hands drops down to paw at his own hardon through his shorts.  Roadhog grabs the hand and brings it up to his chest.  He feels flesh fingers on his nipple, but he pulls the hand over to the center of his chest, where his heart can be felt.

Junkrat stops trying to escalate the kiss for a minute, though it’s probably just out of confusion, because as soon as Roadhog starts stripping him down, he tries to thrust his hips against Roadhog’s hand instead of just letting him undo his belt.  Roadhog pulls away from the kiss so that he can focus on getting Junkrat’s shorts down.

His right thigh has gravel embedded in the skin and asphalt burn from the skid.  Roadhog gently rakes his nails across to loosen the small pieces of rock and then he runs his hand gently across the pitted, raw texture it leaves.  Junkrat hisses and arches, but is otherwise kept in place by Roadhog’s hand.  

“Could have died,” Roadhog says, slowly leaning in for another soft kiss that Junkrat tries to fuck up by deepening it right off the bat.  

“Could die all the time,” Junkrat points out, his voice strained.  His patience is growing thin.  “Dunno what’s got your knickers in a twist, but this was just another day for me.  Another building blown...” His hips arch and he bites his lip on a sharp cackle.  “Another successful escape…” he stares up at Roadhog with half-lidded eyes.  “I need ya, Roadie.  I’m so wound up and I’ve been pressed up, riding bitch for hours. Like to come in my shorts.”

Roadhog ignores Junkrat’s semi-begging and instead continues to explore him.  He starts with his fingertips on Junkrat’s hips, runs them down one thigh and up the other, across the sharp angle of his Adonis belt to work his way up Junkrat’s lean stomach and chest.  He doesn’t say anything, just touches and looks.

“Roadie…” Junkrat whines and arches.  Every touch seems to be torture for him, because it’s everywhere but where he wants it.  Finally, Roadhog leans in to kiss him again.  It’s slow and deliberate and Junkrat makes a high noise in the back of his throat like it’s killing him.

Roadhog finally presses up against Junkrat, ignoring that he hasn’t stripped his own pants off, or any of his armor.  He just has to feel close to him.  When they first partnered up, he had counted the days until he could be rid of this loud idiot and now he can’t bear the thought of losing him.  

Junkrat eagerly begins rutting against Roadhog and lets out a strangled laugh between breathy gasps.  Roadhog allows him to fuck against his belly, hoping it’ll calm him down enough for Roadhog to get what he wants.  It doesn’t take long.  Junkrat giggles as he comes, his hips still twitching up against Roadhog’s come-slick belly as he tilts his head back and screams at the sky: “Christ, I feel so fuckin’ alive!”

Roadhog grunts his agreement and begins kissing Junkrat’s exposed neck.

“Fuck me, Roadie,” Junkrat begs.  “I’m so high I just wanna feel you inside me.  That’s all I want; make me come again,” he babbles, but Roadhog just keeps kissing and sucking at his skin, his hands slowly mapping his partner’s body.

Junkrat hates slow, but it’s all Roadhog wants right now.  He tunes out the begging and cursing and whining and kisses his way down Junkrat’s neck to his chest and he lifts him up easily to keep kissing his way down Junkrat’s stomach until his thighs are on either side of Roadhog’s head.  Once Junkrat is leaned back against the container with his leg and three-quarters hooked over Roadhog’s shoulder, jagged prosthetic digging into his back, he begins kissing his thighs.  Junkrat smacks him, but his hand stays and grips Roadhog’s hair.  He tries to direct him toward his spent cock, but Roadhog kisses every sweaty, salty inch of Junkrat’s come-streaked thighs.  

Junkrat squeezes his powerful thighs around Roadhog’s head with the threat that he will pop his head like a watermelon, but all Roadhog can do is latch on and suck a hickey into his inner thigh, right below the wiry crawl of dark blonde pubic hair.  Junkrat doesn’t pop his head, he throws himself back against the container dramatically and declares that if Roadhog doesn’t stop touching him and _touch him_ , he is going to die.

Roadhog responds by lifting Junkrat’s hips and spreading his cheeks to press his tongue against his hole.

Junkrat grips his hair harder and growls about how much he hates Roadhog for going soft on him now.  Now, when he really needs a good fucking, but Roadhog ignores him, more focused on the quiver of the thighs against his temples and the uncontrollable twitch he can feel in the hips he holds.

He finally draws back when Junkrat stops whining, and sucks gently on Junkrat’s sack before licking a stripe up his cock, firm from the attention and beginning to stand up again.

“Roadie, fuck me, please,” Junkrat croons.  “We’ll go as slow as you need, I just want you inside meeee… Roadieeeeee…”

Roadhog sucks Junkrat down to his base and laps at him with his tongue while his hands pet Junkrat’s thighs.  He’s so warm.  He’s warm and always moving.  Roadhog runs one of his hands up Junkrat’s back, between the container and his bony spine to feel his panting breaths.

Junkrat shudders as he comes again, but Roadhog only swallows down a weak spurt.  He sucks his way off and then nuzzles into Junkrat’s belly, kissing his ridiculous abs and laving his tongue into the dips and valleys of Junkrat’s stomach muscles.  “Roadie…” Junkrat says, his voice soft and serious as Roadhog shifts Junkrat’s legs off of his shoulders and begins making his way back up his pubic region to his hips.  “Roadie, dunno what you wanna hear, mate.  Want me to beg more?  Fine.  I’ll beg.  Please, Roadie, stick your cock up my ass I gotta have it…”

Roadhog nuzzles into Junkrat’s stomach and sucks a mark into the skin beside his belly button.

“Christ, _fine_ ,” Junkrat grouses.

 _Fine_. Junkrat is fine.

Roadhog scrapes his teeth against one of Junkrat’s nipples and then lets out a heady groan.  Junkrat is okay.  He’s alive and breathing and desperate for a fuck, just like normal.  Roadhog finally reaches Junkrat’s mouth again and kisses him deeply.  Junkrat’s hands are still buried in his hair, and they begin to pet instead of pull.  Junkrat shoves his tongue past Roadhog’s lips again, but when Roadhog keeps the kiss slow and tender, Junkrat gives up and goes boneless in Roadhog’s hands.  Junkrat lets out a frustrated gurgle that Roadhog swallows down with a low chuckle.  Junkrat is fine.

Roadhog sets Junkrat back on his foot and runs his hands up Junkrat’s sweat- and soot-streaked sides to wrap his hands fingers loosely around his ribcage.  He can feel Junkrat’s breaths, uneven but strong, and punctuated by the occasional, “fuck… Roadie…” whine.

Roadhog pulls back to press his face to Junkrat’s hair.  It’s greasy and an absolute tangle only occasionally broken by bald scalp.  It smells like Junkrat, though, another facet for Roadhog to take in and remind himself that his partner, his lover is alive. Okay.  Junkrat’s fine.

Roadhog leans back from Junkrat, but still keeps his hands around his torso, still feels his breaths.  “Pants off,” he tells Junkrat.

Practiced ease is the only thing that allows Junkrat to strip Roadhog down without an excessive amount of fumbling and swearing.  Roadhog steps out of his pants and kicks them over against the wall.  He shifts around and moves to sit on them.  Junkrat slides his legs around Roadhog’s hips eagerly.

Roadhog pulls lube from one of the pockets on his vest before allowing Junkrat to wrench it off and bury his face between Roadhog’s tits.  “Fuck me, Roadie, I want it so bad.  Been begging real good, yeah?”

Roadhog ignores him, squeezing out lubricant onto his fingers to begin preparing Junkrat’s hole.

Junkrat tries to ride his fingers to expedite the process, but Roadhog keeps him still with his other hand and takes his time, enjoying the shivers and jolts as Junkrat’s body reacts to his fingers.  

Roadhog traces his lips down Junkrat’s throat to his collar bone and works his way across to his shoulder, appreciating the muscle and the ever-so-thin layer of fat beginning to form.  Junkrat is getting healthier.  Junkrat didn’t get hurt when the bike bit it.  He’s fine.

Roadhog presses his forehead to Junkrat’s shoulder and thrusts his fingers deeper.  Junkrat moans and grips Roadhog harder.  Every noise he makes is wonderful.

When he finally feels that Junkrat is ready for him, Roadhog slicks his own cock and wraps his slick hand around Junkrat.  He pumps him as he carefully allows Junkrat to move lower.  If Junkrat had his way, he would have already bottomed out and would be rolling his hips with a vengeance, but Roadhog keeps his hand on him, keeps the pace slow and steady as he returns to kissing Junkrat’s neck.

“This is… so bloody dumb…” Junkrat snarls as Roadhog directs him at a sedate angle due to his stomach.  “I wanna fuck you, Roadie.  Bet you’d like that, eh? Nice,” he tightens his ass around Roadhog, “tight hole, bet I could have you coming in half a minute if you’d just... let me…” Junkrat fights against Roadhog’s grip on his hip, but Roadhog’s hand is unyielding.

Junkrat sags against Roadhog’s shoulder and lets out a pitiful whine.  His flesh hand smacks Roadhog’s shoulder a few times in frustration, but Roadhog is as solid as they come and Junkrat stops when it doesn’t get him anywhere.

Roadhog kisses his bald spot tenderly and then his ear and shoulder, pressing his lips to wherever he can reach.  “I love you,” he breathes, after a long while of rocking into Junkrat and holding him close.

Junkrat finally looks up and furrows his brow.  “Love you too, Roadie?” he says, as if uncertain.

Roadhog clutches at Junkrat and kisses him on the mouth as he gets closer to coming.  For once, Junkrat doesn’t try to make it fast and hard.  He allows Roadhog his tender kiss without complaint.

When Roadhog finally comes, he groans into Junkrat’s mouth and locks his arms around him, allowing his hips to do all the work in a few hard pumps.  Once he’s done, he sags back against the container and slowly releases Junkrat from his hold with a sigh.

Junkrat stays put, looking at Roadhog curiously, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle while missing two important pieces.

Roadhog clears his throat and raises his hand to cup Junkrat’s cheek.  “You stopped moving,” Roadhog tells him.  “When the bike wiped and your side car broke apart… for a long time, you stopped moving.” His voice gets lower with each word.  

Junkrat lets out a reedy laugh and throws his arms around Roadhog.  “Ah, mate!  I’m fine, just got my head a little knocked around.”  Junkrat runs his fingers up and down Roadhog’s arm with a delighted hum and allows him to press his face to the side of his neck.  He pets  Roadhog’s hair and continues humming.  “S’alright, not gonna get rid of me that easy.”


End file.
